Returning to Nature
I grew up in Cave Spring, a tiny rural town in Northwest Georgia. Both my parents were school teachers. I had a really nice childhood before I left the nest and settled sixty miles to the south in Atlanta, Georgia, the South’s crown jewel metropolis of more than six million people. I wouldn’t trade my years of living in Atlanta: all the friends I made and, most importantly, the life I was able to create for my three sons, now in their twenties. But I don’t think I ever would’ve written this book living in the big city. I needed wide-open space, and the freedom and loving kindness of the family and community of my childhood. Maybe those of you who were born in a smaller town or city and moved to a big metropolis of your own know what I’m talking about.
This photo is a partial view off my family’s front porch. That’s the wooden rail fence surrounding our yard and the acres of open pasture land leading out to a small country road. The mountains in the distance don’t look like too much in the photo, but if you follow them to the right with your eyes, they are actually some of the tallest in Alabama. There’s a herd of deer that wander around the property. A flock of wild turkeys too. And a great blue heron that spends a lot of time fishing at the pond. When I walk around the property, especially at night when the moon is rising or the sky is filled with stars, I’m filled with that same swell of gratitude that Jake experienced in different moments throughout the book.
During this period of my life, relaxing and writing, I’m reminded firsthand of what I’ve always known. Nature is healing. I am my best self when I spend my days outside, walking around the property or playing in the dirt—or at least staring out the window at all the beautiful trees, shrubs, and flowers that my Mom has lovingly cultivated around the house. Every day seems to hold a fresh surprise. Yesterday, a hummingbird hovered at the window and watched us for a few seconds. Is it letting us know that the hummingbird feeder is empty? What goes through a bird’s mind when it takes an empty sip from a favorite feeder? Hey, humans, get out here and take care of this!
Of course it’s not all Walden Pond out here on the farm. Sometimes humans intrude. You get used to the gunshots. Just target practice, my Dad says. What you don’t get used to is the two law enforcement planes doing a flyover a few times a year, so close to the tree tops that the house shakes and the dishes rattle. Out searching for marijuana plants. I also learned about something new. Tannerite. It also rattles the whole house if someone sets off an explosion even a mile away. Somebody’s blowing up a beaver dam. Could be that or it could just be teenagers out having some fun. We only had cherry bombs and bottle rockets when I was a teenager living around here.
So this was the setting for the birth of Jake Doe Burning Bright. The whole process, from when I wrote the first words until I pressed publish, was about fifteen weeks. I’m told that’s a short time to write a full-length novel. I don’t know. It’s my first book, so I didn’t come into the process knowing much of anything. The story just poured out of me over long days. I just kept writing and editing. And at some point along the way, it became a story I wanted to share with the world. My new social media accounts are pretty barren, so if you have a question or maybe a topic for a future blog post, please reach out. Thanks for reading.